The Blood's Elegance

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

BACK TO SQUARE ONE

"You were not a slut, but could you be my fling?"

"What?" My eyes twitched. "Fling?" I repeated because I might have heard it wrong. Never in my entire life was I ever asked to be their girl just for a short period of time. I was not born to appease someone's boredom nor stay during their pastime. And coming from Seth, what was he thinking?

He suddenly laughed and focused his eyes back to the members playing in front of us. They went noisy again, but I heard what he said.

"I was just kidding."

I rolled my eyes and tried to forget his words by singing. I didn't pick the concert ticket just to waste this opportunity. I shouldn't mind an i***t like him, and if I ever voice this thought out loud, I will not say sorry. He deserved to hear me calling him with this nickname.

The event then ended. I was not talking to Seth. My mind was thinking about something else... about the "Roadkill" song.

"Seah." Seth caught up with my pace. Despite the crowd, I guessed I was walking faster. I did not look back and exited the venue without saying any word. "Are you mad?"

I kept my poker face until I reached the car. I held the door handle, but it won't open for me. I slammed the car fuming mad. My annoyance won't get me anywhere, and I didn't even understand why I have to feel this way just because of what he told me. If he thinks that way, then who cares? What important was I am not living to be a fling, and because of that petty word, I questioned myself: Am I a fling material? I gritted my teeth. Do I look cheap? No freaking way!

In a sudden, Seth was already standing beside me. My shoulders jerked up as a reaction to his touch. He tried to hide his smile by biting his lip. It irritated me more.

"What's so funny?"

He shook his head. "Nothing."

"Look," I said, "I'm not in the mood to talk, so don't start with me, okay? That's for you to understand."

He shut his mouth, and I could see that he was thinking about something. He met my eyes again.

"What?" I asked.

"You're not a fling-material. You're not cheap." Did he read my thoughts? "I was just kidding. I'm sincerely apologizing if I offended you."

"Shut up. Open this door. I don't want to talk with you."

"Let's settle this."

I glared at him. He pouted. He clicked his car key. I was about to open it when he stopped it by pushing. I saw red surrounding me.

"Seth."

"Sorry. Please accept my apology."

"Get your hand off the car."

"That's my car."

I inhaled. "Fine. I'll go walk by myself."

"You don't know this place."

"Yeah?" I faked a laugh. "I memorized the way."

Because I liked to go everywhere since I was young, and I grew up independent, I always memorized the streets and the establishments. I wasn't good at memorizing, but it's a special skill. My brain only worked the best in that aspect.

"Nevermind." He held my wrist and opened the car door. "You're not going anywhere. Hop in."

He even did my seat belt.

"I don't want you to be my girl for a pastime. I want you to be my business and remain as a going concern," he said while looking straight into my eyes.

I broke his seriousness with the urge to laugh. "You should remember the economic entity concept."

"You are my business, and I am your business, so who the hell cares with the entity concept if I want you to be mine?"

I couldn't help but react at his statement. I slowly moved my head, smiling. "Stop applying the accounting principles."

"I'm sorry."

"You keep saying sorry."

He grinned. "I'm sorry."

"Shut up, dude."

He closed the door chuckling. When he entered the car and sat on the front seat, Seth still has a silly smile plastered on his face and drove the car to leave the place. He pulled over the car in front of our house.

"Thank you."

"No, thank you." I gave him the shirt I used for today and the paper bag I was holding all the time. I offered him a shy smile. I put my hair behind my ears. "I actually know about the shirt, and I brought one. It would be a waste not to give it to you because you stole my limelight earlier. So... here it is."

The fact that he was watching me right now, even my slightest move—the way his orbs follow the direction of my eyes, was making me more embarrassed about this.

He pushed the shirt towards me. "Keep that. Think of it as a gift from me less the gift wrapper." He took the bag from my hand. "Thank you for this, too. I was really grateful that you accompanied me to the concert. So... see you tomorrow?"

I nodded. I waited for him to get in the car. "Text me when you're home," I shouted, and it was too late to realize my thought. My voice was loud, so he perfectly heard what I said.

"Text mates?"

"Stupid! That's not what I meant! I only want to know that you get home safely."

I could see his foolish smile. He walked towards me and showed me his hand, asking me for something. "Give me your phone."

"Why would I?"

"So I could give you my number. Nevermind." He fished something from his leather jacket pocket. A phone. "What's your number?"

I told him mine, and he called it to check if I did gave him the right contact. Why was he suspicious? As if I'm going to let this chance slip? Him, asking for my number? No way.

He waved his phone and left. After a few minutes, he literally called and not just texted! Playfulness was also vibrating from his voice, and it was like every word that came from his mouth had a double meaning just because of his confession and me asking his number. I didn't like him though. What was he assuming just now?

"Good night. I need to sleep," I uttered to end our nonsense talk, "and please, stop. I don't need your silly remarks."

"What are you talking? Silly remarks?" There went his delighted cackle. "Sleep now. Good night."

I hanged up our call assuming that I will be having a good sleep after all that happened today when a white envelope, pressed in between my books scattered on the floor, caught my attention. That surely wasn't mine. I didn't remember receiving one earlier. Besides, all my envelopes that contain important news were placed in an organizer box, so what is this? To end my questions bugging inside my head, I finally stood and grabbed the piece to know what it has.

Enjoying? I wonder how long are you going to last. Think of this as a party, and I want to have an exchange gift. I will give you my bullets while you will give me your life.

My whole body shivered. At the end of the day, the warnings for my life do not end if I stay here to show my braveness and defiance against their death threats. When I thought that I am guarding myself enough, this kind of words slip through even the littlest spaces to make me fear and attempt to leave this place.

I hurriedly went out of my room and knocked on my mother's door. There was no answer. My anxiousness was sounding louder than my every hit of the door, and as I tried to slam my fist stronger to wake her up, the fear grows bigger that what lies behind this door is a cold as dead pale body.

Did something happen while I was gone?

Is she dead?

"Mom! Mom! Open this door!" I yelled while my tears streamed down my face. "Mom!"

"Sweetheart!"

My chest rose. I looked at the stairs, and there, the most important woman in my life was standing. She had a questioning look at her face, and I couldn't blame her for wondering why I am reacting this way at this late night. It's nearly twelve o'clock, and I was making loud noise.

I ran to her and sniffed her scent to familiarize myself in her existence. She's definitely my mom.

"What happened?" She wiped my wet cheeks., "Why are you crying?"

"I thought you're dead."

"What? Why? Why would someone kill this pretty old woman?" she managed to make a joke from this situation. "Hush now. I am not dead."

"Where have you been?"

"I woke up from a nightmare, and I couldn't sleep again, so I decided to busy myself by watching," she explained. "What made you think that I'm dead?"

"Nothing."

"Did you have a nightmare?" she asked. "What are you holding? May I see?"

In a blink of eyes, it was already on her hand. She read it, and she raised her head. Blank. Emotionless. Empty. I couldn't figure out what she was thinking like she had something on her mind she must not say.

"Go to sleep, sweetheart. Don't worry. It might be nothing."

"But who could have give it? Was there anyone who entered our house?"

"Today? No one, but yesterday, a plumber came to fix the faucet in my bathroom."

"Did he go into my room?"

She shook her head. "Of course not. There's no reason."

"Alright." I kissed her cheek. "Good night."

My heart was beating so fast. I felt that it was not an empty threat.

"You know, it might be similar in the movie I was watching. People who are threatened stay in the place of danger to face what they fear thinking that their braveness could save their lives from death. But no, the threat will always be there until the people realized that they dug their own grave."

A faint smile curved into my lips. "Sweet dreams, mom."

I went back to my room and closed the door. When I turned around, I saw my window slightly ajar, the wind passing through causing me to shudder because of the coldness. The tiredness crept into my body. Finally, I could have some rest.

I found myself in a familiar place. It seemed real.

‘You should have not go to this place, Elysea.’

‘This place is not for you.’

What does this mean?

‘This place will be your grave.’

‘You grow up here. You die here.’

‘This is my first warning. Don’t go, Elysea.’

Smoke. 

I smelled smoke when I got the threat the first time I received the letter, and the same day when we transferred to a new place, its smell was very familiar to my nose, but the scent of it hurt me knowing that this invades my system whenever there is a threat for my life. A feeling of being looked at, that’s what it is. I could never be wrong. There were choices for me. It’s either I use those eyes as my guard to protect me from other possible harm, or take those as watchful and creepy like a stalker, or play him in my hands. I harshly moved to the direction where I felt it. A pair of sharp eyes lurking in the shadow of darkness met mine because when there is darkness and you let your guard down, that’s where the most dangerous people strike you and stab you in front or in the back. In the end, at the verge of the time when your eyes are having to see who’s moving or who’s trying to kill you, you have no other choice, but to return the attack the very same time it was thrown to you. Fearless and strong, but it’s hard to pull such stunt when you know your anxiety can grow bigger the second you see blood.

Smoke.

The smell of smoke. I remember running that day when the sun was about to make us forget how the light looks like, sniffing the air from where it was coming. I climbed down the stone rocks almost slipping, but the adrenaline helped me. It was not some kind of movies where protagonists get some curious and act brave enough to face the possible killer with just nothing but their body and their strength. I was afraid that that time might be my last seconds of living. From the distance, I saw someone holding a stick of cigarette.  

“Was that yours?”

“This one? No, this is not mine.”

“But why are you holding it?”

He pointed at something. No littering on the sand.

If not him, then who?

“Do you want to eat?” I asked. I grabbed the scissor and cut the ribbon. I lifted the lid of the box. It was as if Seth’s words echoed in my ears.

“I warned you.”

My high pitched scream disturbed everyone in the living room. It caught the attention of the party people in the backyard, too. They rushed inside, and we were all terrified to see what was inside the box of what I thought was cake.

It was a skull covered with leaves and worms.

I wanted to go home that time. I wanted to leave the place as soon as possible because I was really scared. I badly wanted to voice out every words in my head, but none came out of my mouth. I was standing as I stood before the table. My hands trembled in my side. They were so cold when I clenched my fists. My fingernails sunk onto my palm. I felt numb.

“Who gave this cake?”

“You all witnessed how I took it from your front door. It was placed there.”

“Then who left it there?”

“I didn’t do it! I swear!”

“No one is blaming you, Seth,” mom calmly uttered. She crossed her arms. “Did you see anyone before you?”

“There was no one, Maurice.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

I woke up gasping for breath and choking on the dryness of my throat. Dreams. They were all dreams. A series of scenarios that happened when we transferred here appeared on my sleep. Am I going to die? Is that the reason why they flashed inside my head?

I sighed. At the end of the day, my subconsciousness would remind me how everything could go back to square if that person who threatened me by letters—ones which seemed like an empty threat until now because there was no scratch on my body at all—decides to move to end my life.

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